by Len Wein
“I’m going out there,” said Rick, starting to walk away from them.
“See here, Jones,” called General Ross through cupped hands, “I don’t want you doing any such thing.”
“Nobody’s declared martial law in Crater Falls yet,” he called back as he kept on walking.
Gracefully, Quartermain swung off the Jeep. “I’d best tag along, Generalissimo, to see to it the lad keeps out of mischief.”
“Let the choppers handle the first phase of this.”
“Ah, but I believe this job calls for a human touch, sire.” He delivered a mock salute, then went jogging off after the young man. “Wait up, my boy.”
Twenty-Two
“Ugly!”
The creature was crawling up the inside of the crater, an immense, ungainly thing. It vaguely resembled an octopus, but it was many times larger. Its outer skin was rough and crusted, yet partially transparent. You could see inside the thing, catch glimpses of bloated ribbons of thick, purplish entrails, gross, strange-hued organs. Inside the bulbous portion of body which served as the head, an enormous pink brain floated, knobby black nerves twisting away from it. There were eyes—several of them—all bulging and yellow, clustered above a jagged mouth hole which was packed with a multitude of spiky teeth. The creature propelled itself with multiple tentacles, each of which was encrusted with sucking discs oozing a yellowish viscous fluid. In dragging its vast blob of a body nearer to the rim of the pit, it left trails of amber slime in its wake.
I am Sh’mballah, Emerald One—and you are doomed!
The Hulk planted his green fists on his hips and laughed derisively. “Bah! Hulk is not afraid of big jelly fish!”
Sh’mballah shot out one of his long tentacles and whipped it around the green giant’s leg.
A tremendous electric jolt came shooting into the Hulk’s mammoth body.
I am your master!
Another tentacle writhed in the air, seeking to attach itself to the Hulk.
“No!”
Gritting his teeth, the Hulk sank his huge emerald fingers into the tentacle which sucked at his leg. It was like trying to clutch Jell-O which had been laced with broken glass.
I will own you!
“No!” repeated the green Goliath. He squeezed at the tentacle which held him fast, snarling. “Nobody owns Hulk!”
Another severe electric shock ripped through his leg, causing him to gnash his teeth.
He strained, fingertips digging deep into the tentacle. “Let go of Hulk!”
Sh’mballah’s sudden silent scream of agony knifed through the green giant’s head.
Stumbling back, the Hulk flung the detached tentacle scornfully away from him.
You will die!
The man-brute stood his ground as Sh’mballah came sluicing over the jagged lip of the crater. “Monster, Hulk will tear you apart!”
He was striving to concentrate on the alien being, fighting to prevent it from ruling his mind or destroying his body. But something kept distracting him.
And finally the Hulk risked a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, a trio of transport helicopters was bobbing through the sky.
“They want to capture Hulk!”
Before he could decide what to do about the approaching Gamma Base forces, Sh’mballah sent another deadly tentacle coiling at him.
“Don’t be a couple of stubborn halfwits.”
“What say, Ricky, my boy, shall we take him up on his offer?”
“I really don’t think we need him.”
“Climb aboard, climb aboard,” General Thunderbolt Ross urged. He was following them along the dusty little road which led out to the crater. “I decided I’d better come out here to make sure you two clowns don’t foul up.”
Rick pointed skyward. “Isn’t it really because you want to see your choppers destroy the Hulk?”
“Damn it, Jones, I have no intention of knocking off something as valuable as the Hulk!”
“He’s a person, not a piece of military hardware. That’s the whole trouble—”
“Being several days ahead on my exercise, I accept your kind offer,” put in Quartermain.
The Jeep bucked and scattered dust as Ross hit the brakes. “So, get in, already. You, too, Jones.”
Rick waited until the SHIELD agent was settled beside the general before climbing, reluctantly, into the back seat. “You never told me how you captured the Hulk this time.”
All three of them bounced as the Jeep went roaring ahead.
“We came up with something new,” answered General Ross. “Got him good and proper. Then, however, certain bleeding-heart halfwits at Gamma Base got the goofy notion we ought to let him run loose, like some kind of pet lamb in a kiddie zoo.”
“He wasn’t the Hulk by that time, old man,” reminded Quartermain. “You simply can’t treat a scientist of Bruce Banner’s caliber as if he were an ape you’ve bagged in the jungle.”
“Hooey! Banner and the Hulk are one and the same, no matter what that mollycoddle claims,” said Thunderbolt Ross. “I’ll tell you something else, too. I don’t for a minute believe Banner can’t control himself. No, sir, I’m sure he can turn into that green gazoo whenever he wants to. Sure, halfwits like you sit around and cry in your Ovaltine over his pitiful situation. ‘I can’t help myself, poor little me. It’s a terrible curse.’ Hogwash! That kind of malarkey went out with Lon Chaney. We’re going to find out that Banner knows a hell of a lot more about how to—”
“He doesn’t!” said Rick. “You know damned well he got turned into the Hulk because of an accident—an accident that was my fault. You’ve got a hell of a nerve trying to—”
“There’s another thing,” said the general, sneering. “You ought to grow up yourself, sonny boy. Pretending to be responsible for Banner’s troubles is a great excuse for you. ‘Oh, pity me, I can’t hold a job, even one playing an off-key guitar with some unwashed collection of freaks calling themselves a junk-rock group. Woe is me, if only I didn’t have to waste all my time looking after poor Brucie.’ ”
“Shut up!” Rick was standing up in the back seat. “What the hell are you hinting at? Don’t you understand what it means to destroy someone’s life and—”
“Calm and quiet is what is called for, lads.” Quartermain casually reached back and pushed Rick into a sitting position. “Gents, what say we drop the great Hulk debate for the nonce? Let’s turn our thoughts rather to the beastie lurking in Crater Falls. What’s his one and only claim to fame?”
“Muck,” mumbled the general, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
“And it’s not junk rock, it’s punk rock,” corrected Rick.
“I’ve heard you play, and it’s junk.”
“We really have to achieve some détente around here, chaps.” Quartermain settled in his seat, apparently oblivious to the jolting ride. “I’ve done some mental speculation as to what our resident monster might be, and I have concluded that we may be dealing with a visitor from another planet.”
“Don’t start giving me a flying-saucer mystery on top of everything else,” said General Ross. “I have enough blasted problems to worry about.”
“Review the facts, old man,” continued Quartermain. “We have, according to the facts I’ve been able to amass, one very large hole in the ground. There are craters such as this here and there around this great land of yours. Some were made by the unexpected arrival of meteors many long years ago. Suppose, however, that the crater we are so bumpingly approaching was not made by a meteor at all, but rather by an alien spacecraft.”
“Science fiction,” grumbled the general.
“Come now, old chap. Haven’t you heard the current saw that real life is fast catching up with sci-fi?” said the SHIELD agent. “Very well, then, we have a ship from some other planet burying itself on the outskirts of Crater Falls, hundreds of years ago, perhaps.”
“Sure, and the halfwits in it were so shook up by the landing that they’re just now thinking about
getting out.”
“General, we know very little about our neighbors in this infinite universe of ours. It’s possible that the creature or creatures aboard this particular vehicle have the ability to hibernate for long periods of time. They may have worked out some higher form of cryptobiosis. We simply don’t know.”
“All I know,” said General Ross, “is that there’s something strange out here. Maybe it’s from outer space; maybe it’s just another little surprise Banner cooked up.”
“He’d never—”
“Forget it, Jones.”
The road grew narrower and began winding through the forest.
Frowning, Quartermain said, “This woodland is strangely quiet.”
“We noticed that yesterday,” said Rick. “It must have something to do with—”
Kablam! Bam!
The road immediately in front of them exploded.
Twenty-Three
They distracted him.
Which the Hulk shouldn’t have allowed.
While he was scanning the sky, watching the three large copters whirring toward them, the creature from the pit had an opportunity to coil one of its slimy tentacles around his green torso.
He bellowed as yet another powerful shock went surging through his massive frame.
The Hulk lost his footing, then slipped to one knee. Then he was flying through the air. Sh’mballah had flipped him almost casually away.
The green giant plummeted, dropping toward the bottom of the crater.
Kaslam!
He landed with an earth-shaking jolt, hitting hard against the carcass of the alien spacecraft. For several blurred seconds, he lay spreadeagled on his back.
It was just long enough to give Sh’mballah time to go slithering away into the woods. The creature had sensed he must get away from there, that the crater was not a good place to make a stand against the humans.
It was just long enough to give the military choppers time to lob two gas shells down into the crater.
It was their newest gas, the stuff they’d used to incapacitate the Hulk before.
“You will not gas Hulk!” he told the hovering ships.
But he was having a rough time of it. Before he got to his feet, the gas was already insinuating itself into his lungs. He staggered upright, swaying, reaching out to get a handhold on nothing.
He tumbled to his knees, nearly toppling over.
“Hulk will escape!”
Using his mighty green fingers like scoops, the Hulk clawed at the earth. He managed to pull himself clear of the wreckage of the alien craft.
“Climb! Hulk must climb!” he urged himself. He kept clawing at the dirt, making slow progress up the sloping crater side.
But the crater was breaking up, and he was like a lab animal on a treadmill, scrabbling and scuffling and getting absolutely nowhere.
The gas was everywhere, swirling and spinning around his head, rasping into his nose, scraping across his green lips, and poking down his throat.
The sky above the Hulk was turning into a glaring blue disc, a throbbing disc which never got any closer. He struggled, tearing at the earth.
“Hulk must stop Sh’mballah!”
No one understood that. They were fools, doing this to him—pressing that blue disc down into his face, dumping the earth on top of him.
His last connection with reality broke. The Hulk slammed forward like a felled tree. Then he went rolling and tumbling down to the bottom of the pit.
“Over in the woods! A blasted ambush party!”
Ping! Ping!
Bullets came whistling out of the woods to smack into the body of their halted Jeep.
The three men scrambled from the vehicle swiftly, putting it between themselves and the rifleman.
“Believe I made out several of them over yonder,” said Quartermain. “More of the locals pressed into the service of our alien beastie.”
“This is a hell of a note,” said the fuming general. “Planting dynamite in the road, taking potshots at us.”
“We’re not wanted at the crater,” said Rick. “That’s obvious.”
Ross suddenly popped up to shout, “You halfwits are messing with the U.S. government!”
Ping!
“Don’t be halfwitted yourself, old man.” Quartermain yanked the angry Thunderbolt Ross back behind the rear of the Jeep. “It’s unlikely friend monster is much in awe of the United States government. The reputations of the Pentagon, the F.B.I., and the I.R.S. haven’t yet reached the farthest stars.”
“Do you have to be a wiseacre even under fire?”
“The best time for it, old man.”
“That’s the sheriff, the one with the rifle,” said Rick after risking a very quick peek around the edge of the sheltering vehicle.
“A complete breakdown of law and order,” sighed Quartermain. “What we need now is a bit of diversion.” He drew his bright revolver from his holster and pressed it into Rick’s hand. “Fire a few shots in the general direction of our amateur guerrillas, my boy, when I give you the signal.”
“What’s the big idea of letting Jones handle a gun?”
“You can shoot off yours, too, my general, if you’d like,” Quartermain invited with a grin. “What we want in the way of fireworks is something to distract the good folks long enough for me to sneak up to them.”
“Risky,” said Ross, tugging out his .45 automatic.
“I am of the opinion that only our mind-warped local constable has a real weapon. From what we’ve seen so far, most of the people simply grab up the handiest thing and improvise. Granted, I may get a nasty wallop with a flatiron or a table lamp, but I’m willing to risk that for the good of the cause.”
“Be simpler if I call in a couple of choppers on the—”
“Now!” said Quartermain.
Rick, who’d already prepared the gun for firing, lifted it up and started slamming shots into the treetops above the huddling, watching ambushers.
Ross followed suit.
And sometime in there, Quartermain seemed to disappear from their midst. One instant he was crouched beside Rick, and the next he was dashing into the woods to be swallowed up by shadows.
“With a little more attention to detail,” said Ross, “we could knock off a few of these rubes from here. That way—”
“General, they’re not responsible. They’ve been hypno—”
“Typical bleeding-heart reaction. ‘Criminals aren’t responsible for their actions; it’s all society’s fault.’ ” Thunderbolt Ross snorted. “Next thing you’ll tell me that this halfwit sheriff comes from a broken home.”
“Don’t you pay attention to anything?” Rick sent a few more shots into the treetops. “You read Dr. Stern’s damned diary. This whole town’s in the grip of some—”
“Yeah, or it could be that Dr. Stern was in the grip of too much booze,” said the general, his eyes narrowed on the ambushers, who waited some hundred yards away. “Lot of these long-haired scientist types are screwy to begin with. Take Banner, there’s a perfect case of—”
“Dr. Stern wasn’t long-haired; he was bald,” said Rick.
“He had a long-haired mind. Another thing—”
“And Bruce Banner happens to be one of the most respected scientists in the whole damned country. You yourself—”
“Respected by other long-haired, halfwitted scientists. That doesn’t mean much.”
“It must mean something to you, General. You’re spending a hell of a lot of time and money to capture Bruce.”
General Ross didn’t reply immediately. “It’s the Hulk I want,” he said finally. “You can’t have a creature like that running around loose. He’s worse than Jack the Ripper and Typhoid Mary rolled into one. No telling the devastation he—”
“You know, if you’d treated him differently from the start . . . well, maybe none of this would have happened.”
“You’re damned right, sonny boy. What we should have done was dump that green goon in the to
ughest cage we could build and keep him there. Even when he turned into sweet, polite Bruce Banner, keep ’im in the cage. That’s what we should have done.”
“That’s not exactly what I’m suggesting,” said Rick, anxiously surveying the woods for some sign of Quartermain. “I think the Hulk is potentially a tremendous force for good and—”
“He’s got a tremendous force, all right. And if we don’t keep him under lock and key, he’ll use it to destroy the whole damned country!”
“Hell, there’s no use . . . wait a sec!”
Noise was coming out of the forest, from the spot where the ambushers were lurking. Shouting, scuffling, a shot.
Rick took a chance and stood up.
Up ahead Quartermain stepped out onto the roadway. “Tally-ho!” he shouted, Waving his arms. “Sighted sheriff, sank same.”
Gingerly, Ross exposed his person from behind the Jeep. “You’ve got all those characters under control?”
“Were only four of them, old man,” said Quartermain. “With the element of surprise on my side, it wasn’t difficult to subdue the lot and get them moderately trussed up. Now let us—”
“Look out!” shouted General Ross.
A girl came crashing out of the woods behind the SHIELD agent. Her auburn hair streaming behind her, she charged at his back with a hunting knife gripped in her hand.
“It’s Linda!” realized Rick.
“I’ll stop her!” Thunderbolt Ross swung up his automatic and aimed it squarely at the girl’s lovely chest.
Twenty-Four
“No!”
Rick leaped up and slapped the general’s arm.
Bam!
The gun went off, but the bullet dug harmlessly into the road.
“Alley oop!”
Quartermain had, meanwhile, become aware of Linda’s attempts to knife him. He dropped to one knee, pivoted, caught her arm, and sent her flying over his head. She landed in the dusty roadway in front of him.
Getting to his feet, Quartermain tossed away the knife he’d extracted from the girl’s hand while she was sailing over him. “Now, Miss, I do hope you can be persuaded to make no further—”